The real crying shame is that there is plenty to smile about

It is time football dried its eyes. Cutaway camera shots of tearful losers are becoming tedious. As Tony Hancock once demanded of Kenneth Williams: "Where's that stiff upper lip?" At the moment the game is more likely to echo the latter's reply: "It's above this loose flabby chin."

Last Sunday much grief was evident among supporters as the last two relegation places in the Premier League were decided. Weeping children clung to sobbing parents contemplating a renewal of acquaintances with the wastelands of Burnley, Blackpool and Barnsley after enjoying the Elysian fields of Blackburn, Bolton and Wigan. At least for Birmingham City's faithful there was a diversion in the reaction of the club's bosses, David Sullivan and David Gold, each of whom talked of leaving after suffering abuse from a section of the crowd. The prospect of such a loss may have deepened the gloom of some Brummies. Others, however, might have started to think about clouds and linings.

Either way it all seemed a bit extreme. The world has plenty to cry about just now and it is doubtful whether the relegation of Birmingham and Reading rates very highly on the scale of global lachrymosity. Poor, troubled Paul Gascoigne started it all in Turin in 1990 when a booking against West Germany ruled him out of the World Cup final - or would have done had England not lost their semi-final on penalties. Tears became souvenirs after that right up to David Beckham snivelling on the England bench in Gelsenkirchen in 2006.

Now that the season has entered its final stage with the annual series of finals there may be a few more bucketfuls to shed. At least Rangers' supporters who were actually watching at Eastlands on Wednesday night, unlike those rioting in the centre of Manchester, adopted a more stoical outlook as they saw their team passed to perdition by Zenit St Petersburg in the Uefa Cup final. Yet here was a more genuine case for weeping at the sight of a team from the nation that invented the passing game being given a lesson in the art by some Russian upstarts. The Rangers of 1945 were similarly outplayed by Moscow Dynamo but still managed to draw 2-2.

It is to be hoped that today's FA Cup final manages to avoid further gruesome displays of disproportionate emotion. After all when Cardiff and Portsmouth last played in a final a firm handshake was the limit of celebration or commiseration on the pitch while those watching preferred a rattle to a tear.

Sandwiched between the climax to the Premier League and the final of the Champions League, the meeting of such unlikely Cup finalists risks becoming a mere interlude of passing interest to those not involved. That would be a pity since this is a chance for those outside the privileged inner circle to show the game enjoys an absorbing life of its own.

Since reaching Wembley, moreover, Portsmouth have been playing badly enough to suggest that Cardiff could become only the eighth club from the second division to win the trophy, and the first since West Ham beat Arsenal in the 1980 final. Either way the result looks less of a foregone conclusion than it did when Manchester United strolled past Millwall at the Millennium Stadium four years ago.

It would be a pity if Robbie Fowler's recent injury problems deny him even a bit part for Cardiff since this spring is promising to be an Indian summer for some of the game's veterans. In a week's time Nick Barmby will be trying to inspire Hull City to the victory against Bristol City which would take them into the top division for the first time.

Hull appeared to be heading that way in the 1960s when their then chairman, Harold Needler, gave the club shares in his quarry company which enabled them to transform ground and team. The side of Ken Houghton, Chris Chilton and Ken Wagstaff played attractive attacking football but never made it beyond the Second Division.

By next weekend Chelsea or Manchester United will be champions of Europe. Wednesday's final in Moscow could do worse than emulate the dramas of their recent Premier League encounter; rather that than a repeat of last season's anodyne FA Cup final. The outcome may well depend on the physical and mental wellbeing of Chelsea's Didier Drogba, a latterday moody blue.

A win for Chelsea might even stop their manager, Avram Grant, droning on about referees. Grant could do well to heed the philosophy of Tommy Cavanagh, Tommy Docherty's chirpy assistant at Old Trafford in the 1970s: "Don't cry if you lose and, if you win, laugh like fuck!"